Shadowland

by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

  “I shouldn’t have brought you to my apartment,” she confided. “It’s against security procedures. My boss, Dr. X, would be most upset if he knew. But I’ve been fascinated with the Outer Lands for years. I can’t really explain why, except that I have a hunch that there’s a wealth of resources hidden there, beyond the Wasted Desert. If we are to save our city, we must find them. So far I haven’t been able to convince my colleagues to explore that area. But now, with the evidence I gather from you, I can succeed.”

  Some of Anand’s anxiety must have shown on his face, because Dr. S said, “Don’t look so worried! I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to answer a few questions. What food sources do you have? Do your crops grow in the open, or have you built domes like ours? Do you have to use masks? Where do you get your drinking water? What kinds of power sources do you use? Who are your leaders, and how do they run the community?”

  The two friends remained silent. What could they say?

  “Why won’t you cooperate?” Dr. S said, her voice rising. “Can’t you understand the importance of what I’m trying to do? The cities that used to surround us have all collapsed. Coal is the only one left, and it has lasted this long only because we scientists have been working very hard to harvest—uh—other sources of energy. But they’re very difficult to come by.”

  There had been a strange little pause before she said other sources of energy. Anand was sure these sources were the objects of power—the ones that the scientists had wrested from the magicians, and the ones that Dr. S’s machines had sucked in from other worlds. Anger swept through him as he recalled what had happened to his beloved home as a result of her actions. And yet a part of him could appreciate the difficulty of her task.

  “Without energy to create artificial light and clean the air,” Dr. S continued passionately, “to purify our water and manufacture our fertilizers so that our farms can grow enough food, Coal, too, would fall apart. We’d all die—but first there would be terrible riots as people fought over the last resources. Is that what you want?”

  Anand and Nisha exchanged desperate glances, not knowing what to do. It was crucial that Dr. S not suspect that they came from another world. With her razor-sharp scientist’s mind, she wouldn’t be satisfied until she discovered how they did it—and how she could make that journey herself. And while she might be reluctant to hurt them to get the information she wanted, Anand sensed that her boss would not mind it at all. Once the scientists found the mirror, how long would it be before they made their way to Anand’s world and stripped it of all life?

  “I’m waiting!” Dr. S said impatiently. “And don’t try to make up something. All of us scientists have been trained in lie detection, so I’d know right away.” When they did not respond, her face flushed with anger.

  “I can’t believe how selfish you are! Even after I explained the direness of our situation and asked for your help, you refuse to cooperate? Or perhaps you’re merely stupid. Perhaps you don’t realize what can happen to you if you keep up this stubborn silence. Unfortunately, I have to get ready for the party right now. But I promise you, we’re going to continue this discussion as soon as we return. And this time maybe I will use some of that Hypnoserum Dr. X swears by.” She led them downstairs to an empty room, threw some clean uniforms at them, and turned on their silencer collars.

  “Just a little precaution so you don’t concoct information to lead me on a wild goose chase,” she said with a cold smile as she locked them in.

  6

  THE PARTY

  Balancing a wobbly tray of appetizers in one hand and a stack of napkins in the other, Anand made his way gingerly through the hall. For the moment, he had given up trying to locate Nisha. Presumably, she, too, was weaving through the throng of guests whose elaborately bedecked bodysuits proclaimed their importance.

  Anand leaned against the wall for a moment, his arm aching from the heavy tray, and looked around. He was in a large, high-ceilinged hall. Along its shiny walls were positioned numerous Pods like the one he had seen in the waiting room of Dr. S’s building. They threw enormous holograms up against the ceiling, each featuring the same face. It was a handsome, intelligent face, with an aquiline nose and a high forehead. In some holograms, it was speaking passionately. In others it offered a sympathetic smile. In others it listened with careful attention. There was something mesmerizing about the face and the colors that swirled around it. Even though a part of his mind recognized the use of Colorpower, Anand couldn’t stop himself from falling under the spell of the face. How noble it looked, how kind! To whom did it belong? Would he be here tonight? Would Anand get a chance to approach him and maybe offer him an appetizer? He could not drag his eyes away from the holograms. He wanted to be the one to whom the man listened. He wished he could hear what the man was saying, but his ear shields allowed no sounds to reach him.

  Guards had clapped these shields onto each of the Illegals when they arrived at the party. The shields were large and clunky, covering the entire ear. They were designed, Anand guessed, to prevent the servers from overhearing the guests’ conversations—for surely at a party filled with the top echelon of Coal, many secret matters would be discussed. He waited with some trepidation to be fitted with a muzzle as well, but to his surprise, there wasn’t one. Was this because the guards were certain that no servers at a party this important would dare steal food meant for the guests? Or was it that the Illegals knew how extreme the punishment for such an act would be?

  Dr. S had not spoken to Anand and Nisha on their way to the party. She looked striking in a silky white bodysuit with little pearls embroidered onto it, and she had put on makeup that made her lips and eyelids sparkle. But her face had been dark with anger. Illogically—for why should he care what she thought of him?—her disapproval had depressed Anand. In heavy silence she had handed them over to the guards and disappeared among the guests. Watching her stiff back recede, Anand had sighed. For a little while, in her apartment, he had felt they might be friends. But of course that was impossible. His loyalty lay with the conch—the conch, which she had snatched from its home, he reminded himself. Why, then, could he not forget her passionate face as she asked them for help?

  The hermit warned us not to get involved in the affairs of Coal, he reminded himself. Our task is only to retrieve the conch and return to the valley before it’s too late.

  There were several appetizers on Anand’s tray: a flat bread piled with crisp, baked potato slices, vegetables dipped in batter and fried, and pieces of roasted—was it chicken? No, the pieces looked too large. Anand suspected that it was some kind of hybridized bird. In any case, it was a great favorite. Guests—many of whom had had too much to drink—kept grabbing handfuls from his tray. Anand’s stomach growled resentfully as he watched them stuff the appetizers into their mouths and then double over with laughter at a joke. They did not even glance at him, far less spare him a nod of thanks. How different this place was from the Silver Valley, where the lowliest apprentice had been valued, and where the most important healers routinely shared in the humblest chores.

  If anything, Anand thought, this place reminded him of the Kolkata he had grown up in, where lavish parties were held for the rich in banquet halls strung with glittery lights, while in the shadows outside, beggars waited for the food that would be thrown into dustbins at the end of the evening. Except here in Shadowland it was worse because the poor could not even get near Futuredome’s dustbins.

  When his tray was empty, Anand made his way to the back of the room to get another, but the bearded old man swathed in a cook’s apron who was refilling trays—another Illegal, judging by his collar—gestured at him to wait. He pointed to the stage at the end of the hall where until now musicians had been performing, indicating that something important was about to happen. Anand stood to the side as he was told. Then something made him glance at the cook again. He drew his breath in sharply, because from this angle the man looked uncannily like Abhaydatta, down to the wa
y he cocked his head intently as he appraised the situation around him. Trembling with excitement, Anand rushed over, the first real smile since he entered Shadowland taking over his face. But the man, though he smiled back, looked perplexed. Clearly, he had no idea who Anand was. Looking closer, an embarrassed Anand could see now that this wasn’t his mentor. Longing and loneliness had warped his vision.

  The musicians were stepping down, bowing as they passed a hefty man dressed in a suit so white that it dazzled the eye. The man climbed onto the stage, accompanied by a prolonged clapping that hinted at his importance. The more boisterous guests threw their scarves and headgear into the air and cheered to welcome him. As he turned, Anand recognized him. It was the man in the holograms, though in real life he was heavier, and—if his grizzled sideburns were any indication—several years older as well. But in spite of that, he exuded such a powerful magnetism that Anand could feel it even from the back of the hall.

  Anand had a hunch that what the man was about to say was crucial to their mission. He longed to hear him, but the ear shields blocked all sound, and from this distance he couldn’t read the man’s lips. He tried to pull the shields off, but they were clamped on tight. He silently mouthed a spell to enlist the help of a wind spirit to bring him the voice of the speaker, as he had done when he was battling the jinn in the Nawab’s court. But the spell failed because all winds had been banished from Futuredome.

  He felt a touch on his shoulder. It was the cook, beckoning him to a corner hidden by a curtain. There he reached into an apron pocket and slipped Anand something wrapped in a napkin. Anand opened the napkin to find two small, square golden sweetmeats.

  Anand’s eyes smarted at this unexpected kindness. Bowing in gratitude, he crammed one of the sweets into his mouth. The other he saved for Nisha, although he knew that if the guards found it on him, he would get into trouble. The sweet—what was it made of? Milk-cheese? Lentils fried with sugar? Here in Shadowland even things that had once been everyday knowledge to Anand grew murky. It tasted different from anything he had eaten, though it was every bit as delicious as he had imagined. He chewed slowly, willing the granules to remain in his mouth as long as possible, but all too soon they melted into his tongue like the energy particles Mihirdatta had described in his class on Transformation. The memory was painful, but along with sorrow, an idea flashed in Anand’s brain.

  He would try to rearrange the energy particles on his ear shields to create perforations in them. Then he would be able to hear the man.

  Anand pulled at the cook’s sleeve, gesturing to ask for permission to stay behind the curtain for a moment. When the man nodded, he sank to the ground and closed his eyes to concentrate. Could he do it? He had no more than a few seconds. He had attended only one class on Transformation, and neither of his two previous attempts to practice it had been successful. If there were Blocking Towers nearby, his efforts would be painfully aborted, and whoever monitored the Blockers might trace the disturbance to him. But no matter how high the risk, he had to try. It was his only hope.

  He focused his mind on what Mihirdatta had said about everything in the world being formed out of the same energy and tried to become aware of that vast and endless dance of sparks. He visualized his ear shields, hard and black, clipping his earlobes painfully. Then he tried to feel the whirling particles of energy at their core. This, Mihirdatta had said, was the trickiest part—unless he “went” to the level of that energy and became one with it, he could not rearrange it. This is where he had failed before.

  If only I had the conch with me, he thought.

  He realized, suddenly, that his ear shields were getting warmer. Were they softening, too? He visualized them as pinpricks of shifting light, with tiny holes in the shining design they made. He held his mind there, on the holes, until the dance was all around him, until he was lost in the beauty of the flashing sparks. Until he almost forgot why he had gone there.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he heard a disembodied voice announce, “to top off this delightful, delicious evening, we present to you a man who needs no introduction: the Honorable Dr. X-1, Chief of Scientific Affairs and Leader of the Security Council, and creator of the X-Converter. He will tell you more about the cause for this celebration.”

  A roar of approval filled the room.

  Anand’s eyes flew open. He was hearing what was happening in the hall! He resisted the urge to touch his ear shields, carefully masked his elation, and hurried to join a group of waiting servers. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the cook give him a knowing stare. Anand’s heart thudded in fear. Did the man suspect what had happened? Would he challenge him, perhaps even turn him in? But the man gave a strange half smile and turned back to the trays.

  Onstage, Dr. X bowed elegantly, sparking off more applause. So this was Dr. S’s boss, the one who swore by Hypnoserum. When he spoke, his deep, attractive voice boomed out over the audience. “Esteemed scientists and councilors, you know that for many years now we have been experimenting with finding alternate energy sources to solve our city’s problems. You know, too, that we discovered that magical objects hold a large amount of energy in them—energy that our converters could pass on to the machines that keep us alive. But our problem was that we had few such objects in our world—and what we had was in the hands of the magicians, who insisted on hoarding them in spite of our great need.”

  Cries of anger rose from the crowd at the reminder of such selfishness.

  “With much effort, we retrieved these objects, which the magicians had hidden, by combing Coal with our Finder machines. We ventured even into the depths of the slums, losing many of our brave protectors when the magicians attacked us.” Here Dr. X bowed to the armed guards that lined the walls, and they responded with resounding cheers.

  “But these objects,” Dr. X continued, “were insufficient. We used them up within a few months. Meanwhile, however, through diligent experimentation, we discovered something very exciting. Our strongest machine, the X-Converter”—here he paused modestly for the clapping that swept the room—“was able to sense objects of power from other worlds. At first, it could only pinpoint the places where these objects existed, but recently, after some modifications made by my team, headed by the talented Dr. S”—more cheers—“it actually brought back one of these items. This object—hoarded, no doubt, by the magicians of that time—was powerful beyond the gauging capacity of our measurer machines!”

  The words made Anand dizzy; he had to hold on to the wall. Dr. X was speaking of the conch. Had he already harmed it?

  Dr. X continued, “I know I need not emphasize the importance of this event—because, though we’ve kept the truth from the general population, you who are the leaders of Coal know that in a month we would have run out of the power supply that keeps us alive. But this object, once harvested, can keep our domes functioning for several years!”

  Shouts of delight filled the hall. Men and women clapped and danced and hugged each other. Some bowed their heads as though in prayer. If Anand had not been so distraught, he might have sympathized with their relief. But all he could think of was the devastation they had caused in the Silver Valley, and the terrible destruction they were planning.

  At least the conch was still safe. That was something to be thankful for.

  “We haven’t been able to harvest the object as yet because, as you know, a crucial part of the X-Converter was destroyed by the rebel magicians who broke into our laboratory. Dr. S—who incidentally will soon be promoted for her leadership role—has been working most diligently to repair it. She has just informed me that it will be fixed by tomorrow night. The day after tomorrow, then, we will begin conversion.

  “I truly believe we have discovered a long-term solution to our problem, for once this operation is successful, the X-Converter can cull more magical objects from other worlds. Since you are the cream of Coal’s citizenry and major supporters of the scientists, I wanted you to be the first to know.”

  This
time, the applause continued for several minutes. When it finally died down, a thoughtful, almost secretive expression came over Dr. X’s face. He pulled at his earlobe as though he were searching for the right words. “Now that we have enough energy, we can turn our attention to a project dear to all our hearts.” His voice deepened further, vibrating inside Anand’s head in a familiar manner—as though he were using Persuasion. But how could he possibly know that magical skill?

  “It is time,” Dr. X continued, “to raze the slums of Coal and get rid of the vermin—the beggars and thugs and especially the magicians—that have been hiding there.”

  There was a moment of surprised silence as though the crowd was not as enthusiastic about this project as Dr. X claimed. But he did not allow them to think about it for too long.

  “Let’s drink to a safer and better Coal!” he cried in that same deep, vibrating tone. He made a sign, and a server ran up to him with a tall, fluted wineglass on a tray. He raised it high. The scientists in the front of the hall—his staunchest supporters, Anand assumed—clapped loudly and raised their glasses. The applause was picked up by the rest of the room as Dr. X drained his glass in one suave motion, climbed down, and was mobbed by admirers. Everyone was talking at once, their excited voices filling the hall. Servers were handed trays filled with more celebratory drinks. The music started up again, catchy tunes that made several people take to the dance floor. Anand wove his way through the hall with difficulty, afraid that the jubilant, gyrating crowd would knock his drinks over. At one point he found himself in a corner where Dr. S was being congratulated by her friends. But though she responded with the right words, she didn’t look as elated as Anand would have expected.

  “I agree—it’s a breakthrough.”

  “Yes, the new energy sources will be very helpful for us.”

  “Indeed, I’m delighted by the promotion.”